


A Problem That Doesn't Want to be Solved

by CausticCouture



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: American Beauty/American Psycho, Hartmon, M/M, One Shot Collection, fall out boy - Freeform, songfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CausticCouture/pseuds/CausticCouture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Hartmon one shots based on the Fall Out Boy album "American Beauty/American Psycho". Based on a challenge I heard long ago; each song gets its own one shot, so there's quite a bit of variance, from breakfast making fluff to criminal AU to so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> I'm kinda sorta obsessed with two things right now: the new Fall Out Boy album and the weird, magnificent chemistry Cisco and Hartley have. This is what happens when the two get combined; a separate one shot inspired by each song on the album. I feel like one of the themes of the album is a dysfunctional relationship that you want to keep, and I feel that applies quite well to our boys.  
> Title is taken from "Novocaine;" there may be a title drop when the song comes around (spoiler alert: no, there's not, I felt that particular one shot worked better without a title drop. Sorry if you were expecting anything).

_“And I love the way you hurt me; it’s irresistible”_

He didn’t know why he downloaded Grindr in the first place. He was never really looking for a quick hookup; but at the same time, he wasn’t sure he wanted to have a full on relationship quite yet. Was there a term for go on a few dates, maybe have sex a few times, and then break up? More importantly, was there an app for that? But no matter, it was Friday night and he was browsing half naked men, just trying to figure out the ones that were least likely to send him dick pics (spoiler alert: if you swiped right on someone, ANYONE, with their shirt off, there would be a picture of genetalia in your messages within the hour).

And of course, just when the night was looking pointless and _Game of Thrones_ was the better option, he came across what could only be described as a straight up BABE. The piercing eyes, pale skin, and dark hair combo, combined with a description stating that he was a physicist? DAYUM. The fact that his picture had him in a tux, holding a glass of white wine, added a touch of class and the sex appeal that came with (or maybe it was just nice to see evidence someone in this system owned a shirt). Swiping right for “HRathaway7” was the easiest decision all evening.

And possibly the best decision; a few messages later, and he had a date for Saturday evening.

 

* * *

 

“I’ll take it you’re SodiumFine?”

They had chosen to meet at some swanky club, and hot damn “HRathaway7” was even better looking in person.

“Well, I’d like to think so, but you’re not too bad yourself!” Silence. Well, that pickup line only worked 4% of the time anyway (though, curiously, 100% of the time on guys he wound up sleeping with, which meant he kinda knew how this date would play out). “Um, I guess it would be more conductive if you called me Cisco.”

“Hartley.” That would explain what the “H” stood for. Hartley Rathaway.

“Your name sounds familiar?”

“My parents are quite wealthy. I wouldn’t expect my name to sound familiar to you.” There was something frigid about his tone; like he didn’t want to be there tonight. Cisco hoped that this wasn’t some sort of drunken mistake on his part.

“Oh.” _That’s the best you can come up with? Oh? Be clever, aren’t you clever?_ “So, um, you’re a physicist? I’m trying to get an engineering job, but, y’know, they’re pretty hard to come by. Or maybe you don’t, they’re kinda different…” _Stop stop stop stop stop if it wasn’t going well before now, it certainly is now._

“You should try looking at STAR labs; if you have examples of what you can do, they’re always looking for people.”

“I actually sent in a blueprint to them last week; a device to utilize vibrations.” _Did… that sound kinky out loud?_ “I’m not entirely certain what it could be used for quite yet, though…” _Well that didn’t make everything more kinky._

Hartley smiled, for the first time that evening. Score. “Yes, vibrations do have… a multitude of applications.” _Oh damn, he thinks I’m kinkier than I am._ “But, if you can’t think of one thing your device can be used for, than why bother creating it?” More ice. “Nevertheless, I didn’t come here to talk about vibrating devices. Or at least the kind _you’re_ designing.” There was something businesslike about his behavior, and Cisco was pretty sure ice wasn’t supposed to be this HOT.

“Buy me a drink first, sailor.” Maybe this evening wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“No, I think not.” _What._ “They say you’re able to determine in two minutes your impressions of a person, and, well…” Why was being let down making Cisco want Hartley MORE? He liked dick, not dicks.

“Oh. Well, um, I guess, I’ll be leaving?”

“One of us has to.” Again, that frigid, condescending manner. That was DEFINITELY not supposed to be a turn on, if his previous comments were any hint.

Leaving was a shame, really. He would have liked to see Hartley walk away.

 

* * *

 

His first day at STAR labs was… awkward at best. Hartley worked there too. And he was still icy as ever. Oh damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full pickup line I based Cisco's username off is "Hey baby, do you have 11 protons, because you are sodium fine." It's my personal favorite, although not because of its high success rate...


	2. American Beauty/American Psycho

_I wish I dreamt in the shape of your mouth  
But it's your thread count I really care about_

 

It wasn't about love.

Attraction, sure. Lust, definitely. But leave love out of it.

It started with drinks after work one day. And continued into a cheap motel. A few different rooms in a cheap motel, to be precise. And they liked it.

And that was about it. They would get together when they felt like it. They actually dated other people. They couldn't date each other; they had talked about it, but it would ruin the whole affair. They liked what they had. And if it meant they could never be formal about the relationship (formal was never the right word, but it was close enough), than so be it. Oh, sure, either had wanted more at different points, but for the sake of the other, they kept quiet. Neither had wanted to ruin a good thing.

The hardest part was keeping everything undercover. Having other people find out about them, having other people assume there was something more going on? No, they agreed they couldn't have that. If anyone found out (and they knew people had suspicions, but suspicions they would never act on), they thought it would be best to end the affair. And they didn't want it over.

Status quo was perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, some of these are easier to write than others, and I want to publish everything in the order of the track list. There may or may not be some wonky ones coming up. But then again, this entire enterprise is a bit wonky, so...


	3. Centuries

_And you're a cherry blossom_  
_You're about to bloom_  
_You look so pretty, but you're gone so soon_

It was a crush; nothing more, nothing less. Nothing to get excited over; just something that would come and go.

And it was just taking a little while to go.

But, if his calculations were correct (and they tended to be), this whole project would be over soon. And hopefully that pretty boy would be fired, or if not outright fired, working on something else, at least until everything was up and running again (why was he even hired in the first place? Dr. Wells wasn't just hiring people based on their looks, was he?).

Shame, really. New boy had a tendency to bend over while working on things. And stretch, putting just the smallest amount of curve into his back. Hartley would like to think the little shows were all for him, but he knew better.

Of course, knowing better didn't mean he couldn't enjoy new boy while he lasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, not my favorite; the song didn't seem to fit terribly well. But alas, I tend to rise to challenges.


	4. The Kids Aren't Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need fluff. Does anyone else need fluff?

_Fall to your knees, bring on the rapture_  
_Blessed be the boys time can't capture_  
_On film or between the sheets_  
_I always fall from your window to the pitch-black streets_

He was most content when they were snuggled together, watching a movie, as it rained outside. Cisco liked old, black and white, silent films, who would have guessed; Hartley himself would have pegged him for a mindless action movie kind of guy. But he didn't mind. He liked a good surprise. Nevertheless, what they were watching didn't matter; it could have been some dry documentary on the history of knitting for all he cared. What mattered was that his boyfriend was curled into him, laughing and enjoying himself. He was happy when Cisco was happy; simple as that. 

He leaned over, and kissed the top of his boyfriend's head. "I love you." Cisco looked up.

"I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's... not a song that goes particularly well with fluff, but I might be really, really emotionally compromised by 1.15...


	5. Uma Thurman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criminal AU, because I like the good boys but love the bad boys more.

_Put your venom in me_  
_..._  
_The blood, the blood the blood of the lamb_  
_Is worth two lions, but here I am_  
_And I slept in last night's clothes and tomorrow's dreams_  
_But they're not quite what they seem_

It was certainly a… different lifestyle.

He supposed it started when he finally got to beat the shit out of Hartley. Having that much power went to his head. And he liked it.

And then of course, he lost that power. He had to go back. Had to be geek monkey. Had to be something for everyone else, never try for anything himself.

So, when Hartley showed up in his apartment (just like the good ol' days, eh?) with his proposition, he took it. He could go for some of that power again. 

And everything was better when it involved a pile of money. 

* * *

 

Robbing a bank was so cliché. Robbing the US Mint? Now that was a challenge. 

Of course, he was the one who had to do the dirty work. But he had just come up with a new gadget, and that made everything better. Something about changing the confirmations of molecules, making them move faster or slower as wanted, just came easy to him; the cold and heat gun as well as this new device (which he needed to name) all worked on similar principles. He didn't so much as break down all the barriers that he came across as… dissolve them. 

And fuse a few back together. 

So he was safe enough to walk to the getaway car, where Hartley was waiting. Hartley… was not as calm. It was adorable. 

"You… you got everything? And you're not running?" 

"Yeah, why would I be?" 

"Maybe because we just robbed the US Mint and cops are going to be after us?" Cisco had to laugh at this. 

"They won't come. I kinda… blocked their routes. Well, no, not exactly; I made the particles from their tires and the ground move at different velocities, different enough to fuse together…" 

Hartley's tongue down his throat was the best way to get him to shut up. "God, I love it when you talk nerdy." 

And that's why he stayed. 

Bad wasn't what he was used to. Bad wasn't what he intended. But bad felt so good.


	6. Jet Pack Blues

_Fight off the light tonight and just stay with me_  
_Honey don't you leave_  
_..._  
_The sweetness never lasts you know_

He looked at the man sleeping next to him, keenly aware that by this time next week, everything might change. And not for the better. Never for the better. He knew the particle accelerator was going to explode; yes, there was only the risk, but he could feel it in his bones. More importantly, Wells wasn't going to do anything about it. Which was bad enough on its own, but it was different now. Hartley was fired. Cisco was not. Hartley didn't want to lose Cisco. Especially not due to someone else's narcissism.

Cisco cracked open an eye, as if he knew Hartley was thinking about him. "Your look like you're about to say something."

"Run away with me." It was the only logical thing to say; if Wells wasn't going to do anything about the accelerator, than Hartley didn't want to take any risks.

"Why?"

He couldn't do it. He couldn't force himself to tell Cisco how _wrong_ Wells was. Because what if he was wrong, and everything went right? Sure, Hartley lost _his_ job, _his_ career, but could he force that on Cisco?

"Why not? C'mon, not forever, then, just for the weekend."

Cisco laughed. God, that laugh. He'd miss that laugh. "No, no, that's when we're going live! I can't miss the launch!"

Of course. If everything went right, Cisco would be lauded. Hartley was ruined, but he couldn't let that happen to the man he loved. "Yeah, of course."

All the what-ifs were on his mind all night. And then he made his choice.

* * *

The next morning, Cisco woke up, and Hartley wasn't there. Not in his apartment, not at work , nowhere. He wondered if he should have ran off with him, if he wasn't asking for something more, and he blew it.

Or maybe he was overthinking it, and his boyfriend would be back for the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Here be spoilers.  
> I SWEAR TO CHRIST WRITING TEAM CAN WE STOP PLAYING WITH MY EMOTIONS K THNX BYE.  
> Because I just have this sinking fear that Cisco's going to be killed off for good to "preserve the timeline" or whatever and never before have I wanted a Doctor Who crossover to just take Eobard Thawne home (if that IS his only goal, which, eh...) and make everything okay.  
> Someone hold me and stroke my hair.


	7. Novocaine

_Because they took our love and they filled it up_  
_Filled it up with Novocaine and now I’m just numb_  
 _Now I’m just numb_  
 _And don't mind me,_  
 _I’m just a son of a gun_  
 _So don’t stop, don’t stop until your heart goes numb_  
 _Now I’m just numb_  
 _I don’t feel a thing for you_

"You're _using_ me?" Cisco yelled, throwing something made of glass (please not anything that belonged to great-great-grandma; his parents hated him enough already without the wanton destruction of family heirlooms) at Hartley's head.

And in that moment, Hartley knew there would be a hatefuck tonight. True, he had been _using_ Cisco somewhat, but quite honestly, he knew the street was going both ways, and damned if he wasn't going to manipulate that into hot sex.

"Oh, please, _I'm_ using _you_? Are you _serious?_ Because you're so _saintly_ , yourself, tell me again where exactly you got those blueprints?"

" _Don't_ put blame where it doesn't belong! _I_ would have been the one doing the build eventually, consider it acting preemptively!"

"And I would agree with you, _if they were ever in the lab to begin with_. Or do you only sleep with someone to rob them?"

"Oh, really? _I_ sleep with someone to rob them? Than why did _you_ come on to _me?_ "

" _I_ would _never_..." Cisco moved closer.

"That's not what you said after a few drinks." As... cliche as it was, you really could cut the tension in the room with a knife. The next few seconds were sudden. Neither knew who kissed whom first; they just knew they were horizontal, grinding, and almost naked within the minute.

"Wanna get robbed tonight?" Cisco asked, nibbling on Hartley's ear. He knew exactly how to make him weak.

"God yes," Hartley moaned.

They'd probably regret it in the morning. But the morning was still a few hours away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely did not have this written and forget to actually publish it.


	8. Fourth of July

_Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of it_  
_I just got too lonely_  
_In between being young and being right_  
_You were my Versailles at night_

 

The drive to the station was the most silence he had experienced in a long time. Which, he supposed was a blessing in disguise, what with the blast induced hearing damage and all.

But he would rather have the pain than this silence. 

"So, why'd you break up with me?" It was a question that had been on his mind, since, well, y'know, Cisco broke up with him. He did love Cisco; maybe not in the traditional way, but the love was still there. And then out of the blue, Cisco ended it. He felt he deserved an explanation. And now that they were free of the cameras of STAR labs, perfectly alone, now was the best time. 

"I mean, I know now's probably a bad time, but I figure, y'know, maybe making amends isn't such a bad thing? And if you're willing to work with me on this whole Ronnie thing, than you feel the same way, right?" Hartley was making a fool of himself; but when would they be alone again? Truly alone; without having to worry about CCTV or someone barging in on them, or whatever else awaited back in the Pipeline. 

"And I just don't want to live in your prison with anything still between us; the 'what ifs' will get you after a while. And the memories," he grinned, "those are my favorite…" 

"I didn't love you!" Cisco's answer was abrupt; the most abrupt Hartley had ever heard him. 

"What?" 

"You were there; Ronnie was engaged, I just… I didn't know what I was doing, I was lonely and you were there, and receptive, and..." Oh. So he was Cisco's second choice. He didn't want to hear the rest of the explanation. 

"So, it meant absolutely nothing to you?" 

"Nothing." 

The rest of the drive was silent, although Cisco could have sworn he barely heard "Tu etais la plus belle saison de ma vie." Whatever _that_ was supposed to mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From RapGenius:  
> "When Fall Out Boy streamed the song, Pete captioned it with 'T’es la plus belle saison de ma vie' which is French for “You are the most beautiful season of my life."  
> I may have messed the past tense up a bit, but I loved the phrase, and if a character being able to speak French is cannon, why not use it? Why would he be speaking French and not Spanish? Because ARTISTIC DECISIONS.


	9. Favorite Record

_You were the song stuck in my head_  
_Every song that I’ve ever loved_  
_Played again and again and again_  
_..._  
_And I can’t, I can’t, I can’t remember_  
_Just how to forget, forget the way_  
_That we danced, we danced_  
_To Danzig, and we danced, we danced_

He loved lazy Sunday mornings at Cisco's apartment. Waking up, and hearing something sizzling in the kitchen.

Cisco would always make breakfast on Sundays. _Only_ Sundays; every other day, he would be rushing about, and Hartley would have to remind him to eat something. And Cisco usually translated "eat something" as "shove a protein bar into your mouth as fast as possible, in one piece if possible."

But Sundays? Sundays were huevos rancheros, and chilaquiles, and migas, and chorizo, and horchata, and sometimes even churros con chocolate. Everything was always made from scratch; Cisco, who had a Masters in Mechanical Engineering and was the second most intelligent person Hartley knew, swore his abuelita would haunt him if he so much as thought about using a single store bought tortilla (canned refried beans, however, were fine as long as they contained lard; Cisco had given details before, but Hartley didn't question the logic of hauntings). He didn't know how long it took Cisco to get everything ready, only that Sundays were the only day Cisco was up before Hartley, and by noon, breakfast was on the table.

Hartley rolled out of bed, and tiptoed into the kitchen, following the faint sound of a radio playing... what was probably not mariachi music, but Hartley had no idea what the exact genres of Spanish music were. Cisco was there, cutting a tomato (Hartley wouldn't admit it, but he had kinda gotten addicted to Cisco's salsa fresca) and singing along. Hartley snuck behind him, wrapping him in an embrace and kissing his neck. "Morning babe."

"Do _not_ sneak up on me when I'm holding a knife!" Cisco laughed, before turning around and returning the kiss (thankfully, after putting the knife down). Hartley attempted to deepen it, but Cisco pushed him away. "Mmm, no, not now, my poblanos are almost done roasting."

"Is that a euphemism?" Hartley replied, keeping his arms wrapped around Cisco as he walked to the oven. Cisco kissed Hartley again.

"Okay, I love you and all, but this," he said, pulling an arm out and gesturing to Hartley's embrace, "is dangerous. I know you know burn first aide, but let's try not to use it?" Hartley laughed, and started laying kisses along Cisco's neck. He wasn't _wrong_ , but he wasn't quite ready to let go, metaphorically or otherwise.

"Aw, just five more minutes? Until the song ends?" Hartley begged, twirling Cisco. Cisco sighed.

"Alright, but the salsa won't taste the same with burnt poblanos." Hartley pulled Cisco closer.

"I'm okay with that," he said, starting a slow sway that definitely didn't go with the song playing, but allowed him to draw his lover closer.

Yes. Sundays were definitely his favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing you can say or do will ever convince me that breakfast fluff isn't the best fluff.


	10. Immortals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _could_ do any of my various assignments due this week. OR...

_I'm bad behavior but I do it in the best way._  
_I'll be the watcher of the eternal flame._  
_I'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams_

He woke up in a cold sweat.

Having a sex dream about a man was one thing (who hadn't had the occasional Captain Tight Pants fantasy? "I'll be in my bunk" indeed). Having a sex dream about a co-worker bothered him, but ordinarily even this passed over the course of a week or so (usually... there was this one time, Ronnie spilled hydrochloric acid on his shirt, and, well, _that_ dream still reoccurred every so often).

Having the second sex dream _this_ week (let's not talk about how many he's had _combined_ this month) about Hartley Rathaway was something completely different from these two combined.

And what was worse was how much he enjoyed these dreams. How much he sought them out, how much he tried to remember. How much it wouldn't matter, because no matter how much he wanted Hartley to look at him twice, it would never happen. Whatever Hartley felt towards him wasn't strong enough to have any meaning. Even hate is a form of obsession, but Hartley was... disinterested at strongest. Cisco would have preferred hate, he could do something with hate, he had done something with hate before.

But no matter. He still had his dreams. Although he was pretty sure "In your dreams" was supposed to be an insult, not a coping mechanism.

And yet here he was; the feelings of dream Hartley's mouth still lingering on... certain body parts. His hot breath. Moans still lingering in his ears. So many sensations, so few words.

The worst part wasn't that he was _having_ the dreams; it was wanting to make the dreams a reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This is actually the worst song to ship to.  
> But it still beats calc homework.  
> 2\. Holy crap, I have one more song and then I'm done with this.  
> What do normal people do with their lives? Meaning, of course, do I write more, or wait to see if we get more Hartley/Cisco interaction, I gave up on the whole "normal people" thing when the nerd life gripped me tight and raised me from perdition.  
> 3\. Because I made a sort of obtuse reference: for those of you who haven't had to take a chemistry lab, one of the rules of chemical safety is to immediately remove any clothing chemicals are spilled on (the only exception is a water spill) to avoid chemical burns.


	11. Twin Skeletons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, accept my apologies for a colossal delay. Never go to college, kids. Or if you do, major in something that doesn't involve having to take calculus.  
> If you enjoyed this, and would like to hear more from me about these crazy kids, I'm currently working on two other things. Publishing will depend on how busy I continue to get (again, college=bad decision), and how developed I can get the fics (I'm considering scrapping one because I don't like how it's going).  
> (DISCLAIMER: I will not be held responsible for anyone "ruining their lives" by not going to college and/or not taking calculus. Why are you even taking advice from me, you don't even know my track record with giving advice?)

_And I just need enough of you to dull the pain_  
_Just to get me through the night 'til we're twins again_  
_'Till we're stripped down to our skeletons again_  
_'Till we're saints just swimming in our sins again_

It had started as a one-time deal. Both of them were lonely, or rejected, or whatever, and they sought solace in each other. They had only wanted it to be the once. It was nice to feel love of some form, even if both knew it would be over the next day.

But for some reason, it happened again.

And again.

And again.

It was wrong, they knew it, they couldn't stop.

Maybe they did want each other, deep down. But they couldn't, they wouldn't, admit it. Not even to themselves. The other was a tool to stop feeling pain, nothing more, nothing less. The emotion they felt wasn't love; it was simulacra of something else. Desire, maybe, if they had to name it. Not love.

Not for each other, at least.

But if that was true, then why did leaving hurt so much? Why did carrying on hurt so much? It was a vicious cycle, of running to the other because they felt pain, and then feeling pain because of the simulation of feeling they had, then running back in. It was terrible, it was dysfunctional, it was no substitute for what either wanted.

And yet they kept running.

**Author's Note:**

> Guys? I'm done with this. It's... a weird feeling. If you read all of this, thanks. If you read any of this, thanks. Seriously, guys, in the immortal words of Meatloaf, "If it wasn't for you, there would be no me." *bows*


End file.
